Great Mondays.

Often, the next day when I’m home from that one trashy club and am getting up at like 1 or 2pm in the afternoon, I think to myself how I can’t believe that that reality was real, it’s almost like this world that only exists in the nighttime and you need your sleep to separate yourself from it and it can’t actually intrude into your daytime life like a segueing into it that way.

Lately, or at least a time or two, I’ve thought about that kind of clubbing, when I’m staring off into space during the class I kind of TA for for the 3^rd year in a row and the professor is talking, and I see all these bright-eyed overwhelmed 19 year-olds, and I think how they have no idea how this (Latina) tr*nny I’m friends with tried to talk me into a threesome after the club shut down and everyone is smoking outside, and she’s eyeing a guy and telling me she likes a hairy ass.

(At which point I realized that she still had her manjunk down there.)

I really have no idea what the kids would think, if they knew I lived shit like that, or at least lived shit around shit like that.

Really, my first 3 Mondays of this term have been something else, and all on the days that I teach these bright-eyed nineteen year olds (if they’re even that old):

1)      At night a Madonna concert, followed by clubbing till 4am and that proposition, and not even in bed asleep till 5:05am (on a Monday!).

2)      Testifying before a city council committee, before class.

3)      Before class, going to go see the touring bones of this really-fucked up Catholic chastity saint, followed by a racism protest with a Donald Trump piñata, followed by the workshops that I have to lead.

So far from what I can see, life does get better as you age, and the young really have no idea.